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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27718523">twenty questions (to fall in love)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyRocksSocks/pseuds/DobbyRocksSocks'>DobbyRocksSocks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boys In Love, Draco just wants to be happy, Happy Ending, Harry is sweet, Heavy Dialogue., Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Bashing, Our boys are so soft here, Post War, Romance, So much dialogue., and going a little stir crazy, author doesn't know how to tag, but really, safehouse, soft angst maybe, there's so much dialogue, you don't even understand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:20:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,310</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27718523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyRocksSocks/pseuds/DobbyRocksSocks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Two boys, one safe house, a list of twenty questions. What could possibly go wrong? </p>
<p>That was a trick question. Draco and Harry spend a little time alone, getting to know each other, and they find that without the war and the opposing sides pulling their strings, they actually like each other. Who knew? </p>
<p>This story is full written, and a chapter will be posted daily until it's all posted.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>351</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to my lovely Dash for betaing this whole thing. You're an absolute superstar.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You want me to go where with </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Harry asked, aghast.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kingsley snorted. “A safe house, Harry. The threats against you are getting more frequent, and we have reason to believe that they’re not idle. Draco Malfoy is already there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you think it’s a good idea to just… leave us alone together? Have you lost your mind?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think some company is better for you than no company, and given he’s already there… it makes more sense than you think it does.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It really doesn’t,” Harry argued, shaking his head. “It makes absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>sense at all. We won’t be in danger from the Death Eaters, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’ll kill each other.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kingsley frowned. “I didn’t believe it would be this much of an issue, I’ll admit. You spoke up at his trial, Harry; you’re practically the whole reason he wasn't sent to Azkaban.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry shuffled his foot against the floor, looking away. “It was the right thing to do. Just because I don’t like him, doesn’t mean I want to see him in that hell hole.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It won’t be for too long, Harry, perhaps a month, six weeks at the most. You've been through worse, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess so. For the record, this is an absolutely terrible idea, and I hate it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kingsley nodded. “Duly noted. I’ll send an Auror home with you while you pack, just in case, and then you’ll be taken to the safe house by a series of Apparition jumps.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Today just keeps getting better and better,” Harry groaned, rubbing a hand through his hair. He really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>hated Apparition.  “Can I at least let Ron and Hermione know what’s going on? If they don’t hear from me, they’re likely to try and take over the Ministry to find out what happened to me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laughing, Kingsley nodded. “It’s probably for the best that you tell them, yes. I have no doubt that they could do it, if they tried hard enough.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded. “You and me both, Pal. I guess I’ll see you in a month to six weeks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe I’m stuck here with you,” Malfoy muttered, glaring at Harry from his seat at the far end of the kitchen table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored Malfoy, concentrating on the food he was cooking. Spaghetti bolognese was one of his favourite things to cook, and the smell was permeating the room wonderfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was nice and simple, but with the right spices, tasted amazing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was almost peevish enough to not make enough for two, but he decided that would probably set the wrong precedent for the next month, and he really didn’t want to spend the entire time sniping back and forth with the blond. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of Harry was even grateful for the reprieve, although the setting left a lot to be desired, as did the company. Still, it was nice to have a few weeks to just relax and not have to answer long reaching questions about what he was going to do with the rest of his life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why anyone thought he knew was beyond him. He’d spent the last seven years expecting to die before he made it out of his twenties, and now faced with a long future in front of him, he was floundering a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t notice that Malfoy had left the kitchen until he turned to ask him if he wanted garlic bread or not. Frowning when he heard a thud upstairs, Harry tossed his tea towel over his shoulder and left the kitchen, intent on investigating what the Slytherin was up to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d like to say that he was surprised to see Malfoy in his room, but he really wasn’t. It was just like the blond to go rooting somewhere he shouldn’t be, and Harry cursed himself for not thinking to ward his suitcase. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Checking for weapons,” Malfoy replied flatly. “And poison. If you’re offering me food, I don’t trust it not to be laced by something.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry snorted. “Nobody said you have to eat it. Can you get out of my suitcase?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy stood up, tossing the removed things back in carelessly. A piece of paper slid out onto the floor as he threw the last handful of clothes in, and he bent to pick it up. Harry frowned, he didn’t recognise it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that?” he asked, taking a step closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was in your stuff, shouldn’t you know?” Malfoy asked, smirking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“20 questions to make you fall in love. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maybe the Weaslette is hinting that she wants to get back together.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry pulled the paper from Malfoy’s hand and glanced over it, eyes widening slightly. It looked like it had been torn from a magazine. Harry ran a hand through his hair and made to crumple the paper up, but it was tugged from his hand before he could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should do it,” Malfoy suggested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry blinked. “Eh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can prove it doesn’t work and then write a scathing letter to the editor of Witch Weekly about publishing ridiculous drivel.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That… sounds like a lot of effort.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m bored,” Malfoy replied, rolling his eyes. “Bored out of my mind, and if I don’t have something to focus on, I’m going to focus on irritating you and you don’t need that, Potter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And answering questions honestly to you isn’t going to irritate me? Really? What on earth makes you think I’d trust you enough to do that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll swear on my magic to never tell anyone else what you tell me,” Malfoy offered, his eyes oddly bright. “As long as you do the same, of course.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry stared at him for a long moment and then turned away. “Dinner is ready if you think it’s safe enough to eat. And stay out of my stuff, alright?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Potter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry looked up from the book he’d been reading as Malfoy sat down in the armchair across from him. He had the paper from earlier in his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re not doing it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry huffed. “Because I don’t want to, and honestly, I don’t know why you want to either. You don’t like me, Malfoy, there’s no conceivable reason for you to want to do this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I want to prove to you that you did the right thing saving me from Azkaban,” Malfoy said quietly, after a pause. “And I want to… I want to know who you are, beyond the thorn in my side that you’ve been since we met.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t regret what I said to the Wizangamot.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not regretting it isn’t the same thing as believing what you said though, is it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, Harry looked at the paper in Malfoy’s hands and then looked up to meet Malfoy’s grey eyes. He couldn’t help but see the hope shining from him and he twisted his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. But you can go first, and if you try and use any of my answers against me, I’ll end you. Understand?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy nodded, his lips tilting up just slightly. Harry put his book down and shifted so his legs were underneath him. He waved his hand for Malfoy to get on with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. Question one.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 1 ~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy looked at Harry, his head tilting to the side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry shook his head, shifting in his seat. He already knew his answer, but he wasn’t about to give up something—anything—personal without Malfoy doing it first. “You can go first.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrinkling his nose slightly, Malfoy sat back in his chair, brow furrowed thoughtfully for a moment. “Probably my Grandfather, Abraxas.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded. “Do you want to explain why, or not?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a heaving breath, Malfoy ran a hand through his hair. Harry took notice, for the first time, that his hair wasn’t slicked back like it always had been in school. There didn’t appear to be any products in it at all, and while it was still smooth, it looked softer and a little fluffier than Harry had ever seen it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My mother told me that my Grandfather Abraxas turned his back on the Dark Lord before he died. He tried to convince my father to do the same thing, but… well, you know he didn’t. I’d want to ask him why he turned.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” Harry replied softly. “My turn?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Malfoy nodded, Harry said, “My godfather, Sirius.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you’d choose your parents.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As much as I would love to see them, be able to sit around a table with them like any other family, I have more to say to Sirius. I’d want to tell him I’m sorry, and that I love him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy frowned. “Sorry?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded. “I don’t know how much you know about what happened in fifth year. I know you know your father got arrested but—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know much about what happened.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Voldemort”—Harry ignored the wince—”lured me to the Ministry with a vision of him torturing Sirius in the department of Mysteries. Sirius came to save me and Bellatrix killed him. If… if I’d managed to control the visions, or at least properly checked that he wasn’t there, Sirius wouldn’t have died.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy was silent for a long moment, and then he said,”I understand guilt, and I understand misplaced guilt. I don’t think it was your fault, Potter, and I don’t think Sirius would have either.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry looked away, but murmured a soft, “thanks,” as he did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you, uh. Want to ask the next question or should we wait until tomorrow?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tomorrow,” Harry said, picking up his book. “I can only handle so much emotional stuff before I come out in hives.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy snorted but nodded, grabbing the book he’d been reading earlier in the day from the coffee table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They each settled into silence, but it was the most comfortable they’d ever been in each other’s presence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry managed three hours sleep before he was up once more, padding down the stairs for the caffeine he so desperately needed. The nightmares were expected, but no less horrible for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was so tired of seeing people die over and over in his dreams. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flicking the kettle on, Harry leant against the kitchen cupboard and sighed. Three hours wasn’t actually as bad as it could have been, he mused. He’d certainly had nights with less sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A creak on the stairs caught his attention, and his wand slipped from the holster on his arm into his hand before he’d even realised it. When Malfoy stumbled into the kitchen, he froze when he found himself on the end of Harry’s wand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry muttered an apology and slid his wand back into place, his cheeks heating slightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want tea?” he asked, when Malfoy simply stared at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” Malfoy croaked eventually, his voice rough with sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded and set about making two cups, glad he’d thought to fill the kettle to the top. He didn’t need to ask why Malfoy was up; Harry wasn’t stupid enough to think that he was the only one still dealing with the trauma of the war, and the haunted look in Malfoy’s eyes was all too familiar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d seen it looking back at him through a mirror, seen it in Ron, in Hermione, in Neville, in—the list was endless really. No matter what side they’d fought on, nobody had come out of it unscathed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He set the two mugs down on the kitchen table, pushing one towards Malfoy, before he sat down, his hands cradling his own mug to generate some warmth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want to talk about it?” he offered softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to talk about,” Malfoy replied, pulling his mug closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry knew better than to push, knew his own reactions when people had tried to push him. Nightmares were such a sticky point, and they could only be spoken about when somebody </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s literally nothing,” Malfoy added, looking up at Harry. “That’s what I dream of. A life of darkness, of nothing. No happiness, no laughter, no accomplishments, no… anything.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry wasn’t sure what to say. There was nothing he could say that would make Malfoy feel better, nothing he could say that would convince Malfoy that a future like that wouldn’t happen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can change that,” he said instead. When Malfoy looked at him, Harry elaborated. “If you see a future of nothing, then work to change it. Only you can make a difference like that. Work for something better.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy was silent for a moment, and then he said, “It can’t be much worse.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then the only way is up,” Harry said, his lips tilting up slightly. Malfoy nodded, and Harry took a sip of his tea, pleased to see the haunted look clear a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you? Do you want to talk about it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry swallowed, was about to shake his head, and then stopped. “I dream about the war mostly, about things that could have happened. Things that did happen. We all saw more than any one person should see.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just saw more than most,” Draco agreed quietly. “What was it tonight? What was, or what could have been?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A bit of both,” Harry admitted softly. “What’s the second question on the list?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco looked up from his tea and smiled, fishing the paper from his pocket. When he read the paper he snorted and glanced at Harry. “You’re going to love this one.”  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 2 ~</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Would you like to be famous? In what way? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco watched as Potter’s eyes widened and chuckled. He couldn’t help himself, it really  was the most ridiculous question for the most known person in the Wizarding World. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, Potter snorted and shook his head. “I suppose it’s my turn to answer first, since you did the first one.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded his head, even though they hadn’t actually agreed to those terms. He’d rather expected Potter would make him answer every question first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate being famous,” Potter said, surprising absolutely no one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No matter how much Draco had teased and prodded at Potter about his fame over the years, you’d have to be blind, deaf and a complete moron to believe that Potter actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoyed </span>
  </em>
  <span>his fame. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you hate it so much?” Draco asked, curiously. “Even in first year… you didn’t seem to like it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… no, you’re right, I’ve never been comfortable with it. I didn’t know about magic before Hagrid came and delivered my letter, so being brought into the world to find out that everybody knew my name was… an adjustment, you know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco frowned. “You didn’t know about magic?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a story for another day, I think. Suffice it to say that my life before Hogwarts wasn’t the dream people expected. So I went from being nobody, to having fully grown adults falling over themselves in the Leaky Cauldron to shake my hand—and I had no idea why. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Besides, being famous for surviving an attack that killed both of my parents isn’t exactly a good reason to be famous, you know? Every year, I got more and more famous for barely surviving and it just… it sucks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded. He genuinely struggled to imagine what Potter’s life must have been like when put into such stark words, and honestly, Draco was still stuck on Potter not having known about magic before he was eleven. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d known that Potter hadn’t grown up knowing much about Hogwarts—their first meeting had proven as much—but to not know about magic at all was baffling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you weren’t… you, if you were just any random person and not famous, is there anything you’d want to be famous for?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter wrinkled his nose. “Maybe inventing something that helps people, like a potion or something—don’t look at me like that, it was just an example, you ass—or a spell, or maybe for playing Quidditch? I don’t know. Probably not to be honest. Fame just… isn’t for me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded thoughtfully, still smirking at the idea of Potter inventing a potion. He could barely follow a recipe for one that had already been invented, never mind creating a new one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco sobered. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>infamous </span>
  </em>
  <span>for all the wrong reasons, aren’t I? Everyone knows who I am, even if they all hate me for what I’ve done.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to see what some of them would do faced with the choices you were,” Potter muttered, and Draco’s eyebrows arched of their own accord, because that sounded surprisingly like Potter was </span>
  <em>
    <span>defending </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. Potter noticed. “Don’t look so surprised, didn’t I tell you that I didn’t regret standing for you at your trial? You were a child—we all were—and they were threatening to kill your mother. Full grown adults would make the same decisions you did if faced with the same choice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t have.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be so sure,” Potter corrected. “I told you what happened when Voldemort threatened Sirius. I’d have done the same thing if Ron or Hermione were in danger. They’re my family as much as anyone ever could be.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh. I… wouldn’t have expected you to admit as much.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter rolled his eyes. “So, if you could have been famous for anything, what would it have been?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco chuckled. “When I was younger, before Hogwarts, I used to dream of being famous. I didn’t even really care for the reason, I just imagined hoards of people looking at me with admiration and respect. I thought about being a Quidditch Player, or even just ‘the man about town’, you know? The one that everyone either wants to be, or be </span>
  <em>
    <span>with.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter laughed, his fingers flexing around his mug. “I can see that actually. I can totally imagine you being the ‘man about town’, if we’d had normal lives.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling and he couldn’t bring himself to stop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think you’ll be getting anymore sleep tonight?” Potter asked, and Draco shook his head. He’d never been able to sleep after nightmares. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me neither. Shall we go and sit in the living room? The chairs are at least a little bit more comfortable. I’ll make breakfast when, you know, the sun is at least starting to come up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco watched as Potter refilled their mugs, and then wandered into the living room. So far, it had been interesting having Potter at the safe house with him. When he’d been alone, the monotony had been almost more than he could bear, and he’d only been there for a week before Potter had been dropped off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least now, questionable though it was, he had company. Someone to talk to, someone to laugh with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco wasn’t sure how he felt about it being Potter though. Their history was so entangled, and so negative that it felt odd to be able to smile at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Settling down in the living room, Draco pulled the paper from his pocket. “Do you want to read the next question?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter shook his head. “You might as well keep at it. Your turn to answer first though, so it’s up to you if you wanna do it now or not.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco glanced at the paper and rolled his eyes. “We can do it now, it’s nothing particularly deep.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter shrugged. “Have at it.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> ~ Chapter 3 ~  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Before making a Floo call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why? </em>
</p>
<p>Harry frowned. What kind of a question was that? And why would anyone bother to rehearse what they were going to say anyway? </p>
<p>“I do sometimes,” Malfoy said, looking thoughtful.  </p>
<p>Harry’s frown deepened. “Why?” </p>
<p>“When I’m about to talk to my mother,” Malfoy elaborated with a shrug. “She worries about me, you know? I have to make sure that I have answers to any questions that I think she might ask me, so she doesn’t worry even more.” </p>
<p>“You can’t just be honest with her?” </p>
<p>Malfoy snorted. “Honesty isn’t a Malfoy trait, Potter. We say what people want to hear, not the actual truth—especially when we’re talking to each other.” </p>
<p>“Huh. Sounds… lonely.” </p>
<p>Malfoy blinked. “How so?” </p>
<p>“Well, if you’re having to watch every word you say, how are you going to be able to talk about the things that actually matter?” </p>
<p>“It’s more that I don’t want my mother to think that there’s any reason for her to not live her own life, especially lately. She’s been so worried, and I don’t want her to be. After everything she’s been through, she deserves a little peace, I think.” </p>
<p>Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Fair enough, I guess.” </p>
<p>“I take it you don’t rehearse your Floo calls?” </p>
<p>Shaking his head, Harry said, “No. I never really thought about it, to be honest, but… I don’t really use the Floo anyway? Anyone that I would want to speak too, I’m usually with.” </p>
<p>“What about at the moment?” Malfoy asked, glancing at the unlit fireplace. </p>
<p>“We’re not allowed,” Harry replied with a shrug. “Kingsley said only to use it in an absolute emergency—though why he thinks we’re going to take the time to Floo someone in an emergency I’m not really sure. Besides, the only people I’d talk to would be Ron and Hermione, and I’ve never really tried to censor myself with them.” </p>
<p> Malfoy blinked. “Never?” </p>
<p>Harry shook his head. “There’s not much point. They know me so well that they know exactly when I’m lying to them—or if there’s more to a story that I haven’t told them.” </p>
<p>“That must be… irritating,” Malfoy said after a moment. </p>
<p>Making a questioning noise, Harry tilted his head curiously. </p>
<p>Twisting his lips slightly, Malfoy elaborated. “Having people that know you so well that you can’t hide anything. It sounds… intrusive. I can’t imagine having nothing held back with someone.” </p>
<p>“Oh. I mean, I have some private things? They’re good about not pushing—as long as it’s not overly dangerous to leave me to my own devices, of course.” </p>
<p>Malfoy snorted. “I can’t imagine there’s ever a time when you’re not dangerous, Potter. Trouble seems to have some kind of fascination with you.” </p>
<p>Laughing, Harry nodded. “You’re not wrong.” </p>
<p>They fell into a relatively comfortable silence for a while, and Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the peace of the moment. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, but it was nice to rest regardless. </p>
<p>When the sun began to rise, and the first rays hit Harry’s skin, he sighed and blinked his eyes back open, stretching luxuriously. </p>
<p>“Do you want breakfast?” he asked, looking over at Malfoy, who was staring into the fireplace, clearly lost in thought. </p>
<p>“Hmm? Oh. Yes, breakfast sounds good. Uh. Thanks, Potter.” </p>
<p>Harry smiled. “Sure.” </p>
<p>… </p>
<p>After breakfast, Harry cleaned up and then returned upstairs for a shower. When he got out and changed into shorts and a t-shirt, he’d laid on his bed with a thought to read for a while, only to fall asleep. </p>
<p>He only woke when Malfoy popped his head around the bedroom door to ask if he wanted a sandwich for lunch, but he felt much better for the nap. </p>
<p>He’d probably be hating himself later that night when sleep eluded him, but for now at least, he found that he felt pretty good. </p>
<p>“Do you know how far back the wards go around the property?” he asked, when they sat down to a simple lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches. </p>
<p>Malfoy shook his head. “No, why?” </p>
<p>“Just wondered if there was any outside space,” Harry replied. “I’m not great at sitting still, you know? Being able to go outside, even if only a little bit, would be good.” </p>
<p>“We can check after lunch. Can you sense the magic?” </p>
<p>Harry nodded, ducking his head when Malfoy rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the most heard of skill, but Harry supposed that with the amount of magic he possessed, it couldn’t really be a surprise that he could sense magic—especially strong magic like in wards and runes. </p>
<p>… </p>
<p>Harry was pleased to find that there was a sizable garden enclosed within the wards, and by the time they’d made their way outside, the sun had rounded the house enough that it was shining directly down on them. </p>
<p>With a lazy wave of his wand, Harry conjured a beach towel on the grass and stripped his shirt off, laying down in the sun with a smile on his face. </p>
<p>Malfoy stood awkwardly to the side for a moment, before a second towel appeared, this one green to counter the red of Harry’s, though Malfoy also conjured a shiny silver sun umbrella to cover the majority of his towel. </p>
<p>When Harry raised an eyebrow, Malfoy huffed at him. </p>
<p>“My skin is <em> delicate, </em>Potter.” </p>
<p>Harry snorted. “Of course it is. Settle down, Princess, I didn’t say anything, did I?” </p>
<p>An outraged sound forced its way past Malfoy’s lips as he sat down. “Princess?” </p>
<p>“Are you telling me I’m wrong?” Harry asked, grinning. </p>
<p>Rolling his eyes, Malfoy just slipped the paper with their questions from his pocket, and looked at Harry. “Ready for another one?” </p>
<p>Harry nodded. “Go ahead.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>~ Chapter 4 ~</em> </strong>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>What would constitute a perfect day for you?</em>
</p><p>Being faced with a naked Potter wasn't daunting. It <em>wasn't.</em></p><p>Well. Maybe it was a little daunting, but Draco was fine. He was fine, this wasn't even in the top ten most daunting… well.</p><p>Draco wrinkled his nose and shifted beneath his umbrella as he waited for Potter to answer the question. He was trying his hardest not to think about answering himself.</p><p>He knew it should be an easy question, everyone had an idea of what their perfect day would be, right?</p><p>Except Draco didn't.</p><p>He'd spent so many months just trying to make sure he was <em>alive </em>at the end of the day that he had no idea now what a <em>perfect </em>day would be made up of.</p><p>The look on Potter's face seemed to convey that he was struggling with a similar issue.</p><p>"A perfect day," Potter mused. He rolled over onto his front, resting his chin on his palm, arm bent at the elbow to prop his head up. "I'm not sure. Something simple, probably. Flying, spending time with Ron and Hermione… not being bugged for my autograph, or asked what I'm planning to do with my future. Good food… simple things."</p><p>Draco nodded slowly. He supposed for Potter, that would be good. After his years at Hogwarts—even just what Draco knew about—simple would probably fit him well.</p><p>"You?"</p><p>Draco blinked, and then sighed. "I don't know."</p><p>Potter's brow furrowed. "If you don't want to answer, you can just say so, you know? I'm not actually going to try and force an answer out of you, Malfoy."</p><p>Draco shook his head. "It's not that I don't want to answer, Potter, I just… genuinely don't know what a perfect day would look like. There are things I enjoy, sure, but… I don't know if I think they're perfect."</p><p>"I think you're overthinking this," Potter said, his lips tilting up slightly as he brow smoothed out.</p><p>"Not a problem you've ever had, I'm sure," Draco snarked, then bit his lip, because wasn't he trying to not argue with Potter every two minutes?</p><p>Potter merely rolled his eyes and snorted.</p><p>"I… spending time with my mother without worrying about saying the wrong thing would be good," Draco said eventually. "And I suppose flying, too. It's freeing in a way little else is, isn't it?"</p><p>Potter nodded. "Yeah. I always felt like I didn't have to worry about anything when I was in the air. Like I was leaving all my problems on the ground."</p><p>"I get that. I haven't been flying in ages. Not since—" he cut himself off, the room of requirement flashing in his mind, Potter's hands pulling him desperately onto the back of his broom as they rushed to escape the untameable flames.</p><p>"Hey," Potter murmured, pulling Draco from the memory. "Maybe when we're allowed to leave here, we can go flying?"</p><p>Draco blinked a few times and then nodded. "I… yeah. Sounds like a plan."</p><p>…</p><p>They spent most of the afternoon in the garden in a companionable silence, broken only occasionally by an absent comment from one to the other. It was nice, Draco thought.</p><p>Not something he'd ever really done before. His father had always expected every action to have a point, even something as simple as when and where Draco sat, and for how long.</p><p>Finally, Potter stretched on his towel and sat up lazily, rolling his bare shoulders a few times. "I'll make a start on dinner. What do you fancy?"</p><p>Draco shrugged. "Whatever you want to make is fine. You know you don't have to cook every night, right?"</p><p>Potter wrinkled his nose, and Draco refused to think it was cute. It wasn't cute. Absolutely not.</p><p>"I like cooking, when I'm cooking because I want to. I think I'll probably make something with a salad though. It's too warm for something heavy."</p><p>Draco nodded, tucking that comment away for further examination later. Potter stood up, and Draco's eyes were drawn to a scar on the back of his hip.</p><p>"How did that happen?" He asked, nodding to the scar when Potter looked at him questioningly.</p><p>Potter twisted a little to look at it, his fingertips brushing over it thoughtfully. "I'm not sure."</p><p>Draco snorted, but stood up, vanishing his conjured umbrella before he followed Potter inside. He sat down at the table, only to be ordered back to his feet.</p><p>"You can chop vegetables, right?"</p><p>He was directed to a cutting board that Potter loaded brightly coloured vegetables onto, and then handed a sharp knife.</p><p>"What do you want me to do with them?"</p><p>"Thin slices for everything," Potter said, before he turned back to the fridge. "How do you feel about stir-fry?"</p><p>"I… don't know what that is."</p><p>Nodding, Potter pulled more ingredients out and then turned to the cupboard. "You're about to find out if you like it then."</p><p>Draco chopped the vegetables as ordered, and then stepped back, accepting the quiet thanks before he returned to his seat at the table. He took a deep breath and then said, "I think a perfect day for me would be being invisible. Not… not invisible like people couldn't see me but… as if I hadn't made the mistakes I have. Invisible in the sense that nobody would know me. Nobody would care who I am."</p><p>Potter glanced over his shoulder and smiled tightly. "Your mistakes won't follow you forever, Malfoy. The wizarding public are fickle, and more than that, for the most part, they're sheep. They'll move onto someone else before long."</p><p>"You know that from experience," Draco said, nodding slightly. He knew that Potter had been to both ends of the spectrum of public opinion, and logically, Draco knew he was right.</p><p>It was just… hard to believe that, and he was impatient for it.</p><p>He'd never wanted to be invisible before, but now… it really did sound perfect.</p><p>He watched Potter cook, and it wasn't long before a plate of the most colourful food Draco had ever seen was put in front of him.</p><p>Hesitantly, he scooped some up onto his fork and ate it, marvelling at the explosion of flavour on his tongue.</p><p>He glanced at Potter to see a satisfied smirk on his face.</p><p>"Okay, so you can feel free to cook every night," Draco said, rolling his eyes.</p><p>Potter just chuckled and turned back to his food.</p><p>…</p><p>Draco finished his chapter and shut his book, glancing at the clock. He pulled the list from his pocket and glanced at the next question, snorting to himself when he saw what it was.</p><p>When Potter looked up from his own book, Draco gestured to the list.</p><p>"One more before bed?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>~ Chapter 5 ~</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?</em>
</p><p>Harry stared at him for a long minute and then he started laughing. "Singing? What even are these questions?"</p><p>Malfoy snorted, shaking his head as he glanced down at the list. Harry hugged a pillow to his chest, still shaking slightly as he tried to suppress his laughter.</p><p>"I don't sing. Can't sing. I sound like an injured kneazle."</p><p>"Everyone can sing, Potter," Malfoy replied, rolling his eyes. "Not everyone can sing <em>well, </em>however."</p><p>"I certainly can't," Harry confirmed, grinning. "So I don't really bother. No idea when I last sang, unless we're counting the school song, which I believe was last sung in… fourth year?"</p><p>"Is that the year the Weasley twins did that awful funeral march?"</p><p>"No, that was first year," Harry said, his smile dulling a little as he thought about Fred, who'd died laughing, and George, who hadn't laughed since. Shaking it off, he looked back at Malfoy. "What about you? Do you sing?"</p><p>Malfoy nodded, pursing his lips slightly. "I used to. Mother taught me songs when I was younger, and as I grew, I'd sing them for her when she was sad. I… I don't remember the last time I did it though."</p><p>Harry couldn't help but notice that Malfoy seemed sad himself at the thought.</p><p>"You… you could sing one now? If you wanted, I mean? I'd like to hear what constitutes as a lullaby for wizards."</p><p>There was a long pause, and then Malfoy opened his mouth and sang. The first few lines were a little rough, but as he got into the swing of the tune, Harry settled back in his seat to listen.</p><p>Malfoy's voice was nice. Smooth and calming in a way that Harry would never have associated with the boy he'd grown up hating. He sang softly about a self stirring cauldron whipping up a batch of dreamless sleep and Harry smiled at the lyrics.</p><p>Despite the difference in words, it sounded a lot like the lullabies he'd heard Petunia sing to Dudley in their youth, about twinkling stars and sleeping tightly.</p><p>When the lullaby came to a stop, Harry smiled. "Now you know when the last time you sang was, and who was with you."</p><p>Malfoy nodded, and then tucked the paper holding the questions into his pocket. "I. Yeah. I'm going to head to bed. Night, Potter."</p><p>Harry said goodnight and watched him leave. Part of him wondered if maybe he should reach out and stop him. He'd heard the roughness in his throat, saw his eyes shining brighter than usual, and he hated to think of Malfoy crying in bed alone.</p><p>In the end, he didn't.</p><p>He didn't know if it would be welcome, and sometimes… sometimes, you just had to cry it out alone.</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>Harry knew he was dreaming. He knew because Hogwarts had never been this empty in all the time he'd been at the school, both pre and post war. The corridors were empty, and the usual thrum of magic that ran through the whole castle wasn't there.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was strange.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was so used to the magic of the castle, that he only realised now that it was gone that it had been there at all. Hogwarts without magic just seemed… wrong.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There were rocks scattered around the floor, the walls scarred from misfired curses, the ground scorched. Signs of the Battle of Hogwarts were everywhere he looked, but Harry couldn't find anyone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He checked each room as he passed them, looking for any form of life, anyone who might be hiding for some reason, but he didn't find anyone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was alone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Except…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He didn't think he was. He kept hearing eerie laughter. Everytime he turned to search for whoever it was, he couldn't see anyone, but it seemed to be getting louder every time he heard it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It wasn't until he reached a fallen wall that he realised who, exactly, was laughing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The echo of Fred's laughter got louder in his ears until it was too loud and he had to press his palms against them to try and protect himself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It didn't help.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It just got louder, until Harry thought his head was going to explode, and then hands were grabbing at him, and he opened eyes he didn't realise he'd squeezed shut to see the faces of the dead, all peering up at him, all reaching out for him to pull him down, down, down—</em>
</p><p>"Potter! Harry, wake up!"</p><p>Harry woke up, sitting upright in his bed, panting. Sweat was pouring from him, and he could still hear the echo of Fred's laughter in his ears.</p><p>"Bloody hell," he murmured, rubbing a hand down his face as his heart slowed, the beat calming to its regular pace. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"</p><p>"It, uh, didn't sound great," Malfoy said, shifting slightly. "But you didn't wake me up, I was already awake."</p><p>Harry nodded, shifting under the blanket until his legs were out of the bed and on the floor, his bum on the edge of the bed. He looked up at Malfoy, and then tilted his head.</p><p>"You called me Harry."</p><p>Even in the dim light shining through from the moon, Harry saw Malfoy's cheeks flush a little. "You weren't waking up. I, uh. Sorry."</p><p>"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "Don't apologise. I, uh. I prefer Harry to Potter. You know, if you want."</p><p>Malfoy looked at him for a moment and then nodded. "I'll try. I'll probably keep forgetting; it's hard to break the habits of a lifetime."</p><p>Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I know."</p><p>"Are you going to try and sleep again, or..?"</p><p>"No, not after… that. You?"</p><p>"If you make hot chocolate, I'll let you call me Draco?"</p><p>Harry stared at him for a long moment, and then he hit him with a pillow. "Ass."</p><p>…</p><p>They were settled in the kitchen when Harry waved his hand at Draco. "Come on then, what's the next question?"</p><p>"You've changed your tune."</p><p>Harry gave him an unimpressed look, and Draco snorted, but dutifully pulled the paper from his pocket. He read the question and then looked up at Harry.</p><p>"The answer is that the next question is <em>stupid."</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 6 ~ </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco watched as Potter—no, Harry—blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right, that is a stupid question. The answer is pretty obvious, isn’t it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you say?” Draco asked, interested. He knew that the answer should be obvious, but Potter... well, as much as Draco didn’t think he was as bad as he’d always believed him to be, he was still a Gryffindor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Retain the mind, obviously,” Potter—Harry, dammit—replied, rolling his eyes. “What’s the point in having the body of a thirty year old if your mind is mush?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco snorted. “That’s one way to put it, I suppose. But I agree. If you’ve still got your mind, you can learn the spells to make your body appear younger if you really feel the need.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if you didn’t…” Harry wrinkled his nose. “It’s just a bit pointless to have an old mind with a young body. I don’t understand the purpose of the question.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, because when you last sang a song was definitely important.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Point. What even is this article?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A way to fall in love, apparently,” Draco replied, grinning. “Are you in love with me yet, Potter?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely. I’m infatuated. Can’t you tell?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wipe away that drool, you’re embarrassing yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry snorted, and threw a biscuit at him. “Have you got any parchment?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco blinked at the non sequitur but nodded slowly. “I have.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I borrow some? I want to write to Kingsley.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think we’re meant to send letters, Potter. It’ll give away our position.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is why I’m going to floo it to him instead,” Harry said with a nod. “I want to double check that Kreacher can come here before I call him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got an elf?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded. “He was the Black family elf. Sirius left everything to me, including him, so.” He shrugged. “It was an adventure at first, but we came to an accord.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like a story.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry just smiled. “I guess it is. Maybe I’ll tell it to you sometime.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco accepted that, and went upstairs to grab the parchment and a quill for Potter. It was odd how easily they were getting along. Draco put it down to the lack of outside interference, and the fact that both of them seemed too tired to fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco knew he was, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he hadn’t been lying to Harry when he’d said he wanted him to believe what he’d told the Wizengamot. He’d been so utterly convinced he’d be joining his father in Azkaban, that when Potter had shown up on his trial day, Draco had thought he was even more doomed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He certainly hadn’t expected the boy-hero to speak in his defence, until there was no conceivable way for the old gits to convict him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he returned to the kitchen, it was to find Harry leaning against the cabinet with a box of blueberries in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you feel about blueberry muffins?” he asked, when he spotted Draco in the doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel… good about them?” Draco offered, a little nonplussed. He couldn’t imagine Potter was going to make them from scratch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, apparently he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a surprisingly simple process, and it didn’t take long until the kitchen was permeated with the scent of fresh muffins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really going to have to tell me how you learned to cook, Potter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll probably come up on the question list,” Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders. “But I learned some before Hogwarts, and then some from Molly Weasley.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded. He should have expected the Weasley matriarch was at least to be partially credited for Potter’s skill in the kitchen. The Weasleys weren’t rich enough to have an elf, so she’d likely do all the cooking given Arthur Weasley spent his days at the Ministry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was different to the way he grew up, but he was beginning to realise that different didn’t automatically mean wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter sat down at the table and accepted the parchment and quill, quickly writing his note. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your handwriting really is atrocious,” Draco commented, from his own seat. He couldn’t properly read the words upside down, but he got the general gist of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I grew up using muggle pens,” Harry replied, shrugging. “Hogwarts really should offer a set of beginner’s classes for Muggle-born and Muggle-raised students. Teach them how to use a quill properly, perhaps the basics for ingredient preparation in potions. Snape seemed to expect us to know how to do things, when I didn’t have the first clue what the difference between chopping and dicing was.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco frowned. “McGonagall didn’t do that with you? Snape did with the Muggle-borns in Slytherin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry blinked. “It seems stupid now that I think about it, but I didn’t realise there </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>any Muggle-borns in Slytherin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Draco sat back in his seat. “It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>stupid. We just integrated them better, so people didn’t assume that they were Muggle-born. I wondered if the other houses did it in a different way but… Gryffindor doesn’t do it at all?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shook his head. “Unless I was excluded from it because I’m technically not Muggle-born, but I think Hermione would have mentioned it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s a freak of nature, that one,” Draco said, shaking his head. When Harry bristled, he held up a hand. “I don’t mean it as an insult. I’ve just never seen a Muggle-born take to the theory of magic so fast. You picked up the actual magic easily because you’re powerful, and that’s all genetics, but Granger was… something else.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiled proudly. “She saved my life so many times because she knew random facts about random things that I’d have never even thought to research.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s lips tilted up. “Was she the one who made you use Gillyweed in the Triwizard Tournament? I knew you hadn’t thought of that yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t, but it wasn’t Hermione.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Who was it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry grinned. “Dobby.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 7 ~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My old house elf stole from Snape’s office so that you wouldn’t flake out on the second task?” Draco asked, visibly shocked by the revelation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded, his smile widening. He was, admittedly, probably taking too much pleasure out of the blond’s reaction, but it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>funny. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He left the kitchen—and Draco to his shock—to send the note through the floo to Kingsley. He was hoping for a quick reply, but he had no idea if he’d actually get one. Kingsley would likely make him wait through irritation that Harry was bothering him after only a few days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He quickly straightened up the living room before he returned to the kitchen. Draco seemed to have pulled himself together. He had the paper with the questions in his hands and a solemn look on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s heart sank. “What’s up?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco looked up and wrinkled his nose. “Not the nicest of questions, is all. Wanna skip it, or..?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll have to tell me what it is before I decide if I want to skip it,” Harry replied softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco recited the question dutifully, and Harry sighed. “Why would someone even ask that? How does that have anything to do with falling in love? Unless you’re supposed to say that you’d die protecting the person but… ew.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco snorted. “Ew?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Ew. Even if you would, it’s a bit cringy to just out and actually say it, isn’t it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco chuckled quietly. “I guess so. So, do you want to answer it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve already died… or tried to, I guess. I still don’t fully know how that worked, and I’m not sure I want to.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My mother told me about that,” Draco said, biting his bottom lip. “She said you stood there and just let </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>cast Avada Kedavra at you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry leant down to check the blueberry muffins, smiling when he saw the golden tops. He pulled them from the oven with a tea towel and set the tray on the side. He knew there were spells he could use to cool the muffins instantly, but he didn’t like using them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Made them taste like cardboard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He retook his seat at the table. “I did. I was just… so goddamn tired of fighting, and I guess… I had other information which made it necessary for him to kill me himself. I could have fought but… what was the point?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was it like?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing… and everything. I don’t know how to explain it; I don’t even know if it happened at all. It was strange, and it’s not a thing I want to repeat anytime soon, but I’m not afraid to. When it’s my time, it’s my time.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… Do you have a hunch how it’ll happen?” Draco asked, nodding back at the paper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really. Hermione would say that it’ll be by me doing something reckless, and Ron still thinks I’m going to be an Auror, so he’d probably guess at me getting killed in the line of duty or something but… I don’t know. I’d like to think I’ll die peacefully when I’m old and grey.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded. “I think most people hope for that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you? Do you want to swerve it? You know you don’t have to, right? I won’t try and force it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to believe the same as you,” Draco admitted. “That I’ll die when I’m old and it’ll be peaceful and people will mourn for me, but… I guess I’m not that optimistic. I thought I’d die in the war, either in the middle of a battle I didn’t want to fight, or at the hands of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now it seems more likely that I’ll be killed by someone who blames me for something that happened to them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry scowled. “That won’t happen.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t protect everyone, Harry,” Draco muttered tiredly, and there was something so defeated about him that it hurt Harry’s heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rival or friend, or even enemy, he’d never wanted to hear Draco sound that way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can try,” he replied, looking away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were silent for a while, the air around them tense in a way it hadn’t been since the first day. Eventually, Harry got up from the table and took the muffins from the tray, setting them on a plate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t particularly hungry now, but it was something to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked out of the kitchen window and was disappointed that the beautiful weather from the day before had disappeared, replaced by dark clouds that appeared to just be waiting for the right time to rain hell down upon them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been hoping for a good day, but his mood was completely ruined now, and if the way Draco was glaring down at the table was any evidence, he wasn’t the only one. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter  8~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Name three things you and your partner have in common. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Having spent the day lounging around and doing nothing—he wasn’t sulking, dammit—Draco pulled out the paper. He was a little tempted to just throw it into the fire and forget all about it, but something was compelling him to see it through. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked over at Harry, half lying on the sofa and staring moodily at the fire, and cleared his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry seemed confused for a moment before he caught sight of the paper in Draco’s hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes, but waved at Draco to go first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco flaked. He had no idea how to put his thoughts into words that wouldn’t sound stupid, and he silently cursed himself for not thinking about his answers before he read the question outloud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chuckling, Harry shook his head. “Really? You can’t think of three things?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… really can’t.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. We have Quidditch in common; we’re both seekers and we both love the game. We have treacle tart in common—don’t look at me like that, you ponce, I’ve seen you drooling over it enough times in the Great Hall—and… we both have mothers who’d do anything for their sons.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco frowned. “Sap.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Show me where I’m wrong.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, fine. Uh. We’re both 18, we’re both male, and… uh… neither of us graduated Hogwarts.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry blinked at him, and then shook his head. “I’m too tired to argue with you over your lame ass answers.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not wrong.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not,” Harry conceded, lying back down. “Doing nothing all day is exhausting, how do people do this?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco snorted. “I don’t know. Read?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I read anymore, my brain is going to melt out of my ears.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a drama queen?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco shifted in his seat, checking that Potter was as asleep as he thought he was. He hated that he’d… not lied, per say, but not answered the question as honestly as he could have. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to… he’d just… well. Sometimes it was just really hard to say things, especially when he had to say them to someone else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a reason he had to rehearse his floo conversations before he spoke to his mother. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed, looking at Potter again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three things we have in common. I can do this.” He twisted his lips. “We both have absentee parents, by choice or death. We were both forced into a war that wasn’t ours, while we were far too young for it, and… and we can both see thestrals.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The following morning, Harry set a cup of tea in front of Draco and said, “I didn’t think of the thestral thing. I didn’t realise you could see them too, though… I guess a lot of people can now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco blinked. It took him a moment to realise that Potter was referring to his words from last night, when he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought </span>
  </em>
  <span>Potter was asleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were awake.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded, smiling sheepishly. “I was going to interrupt you, but… I guess I thought maybe you wanted to say it, even if you didn’t really want to say it to me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cheeks heating, Draco wrapped his hands around the mug and pulled it a little closer. “Well. At least you know I didn’t flake on it completely.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry snorted. “Bacon and eggs for breakfast? Or do you want pancakes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is that even a question? Pancakes are always the answer, you heathen!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shrugging, Harry turned back to the stove. “When you’re right, you’re right. Gimme a question while I’m cooking.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 9 ~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For what in your life do you feel most grateful for? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco tilted his head. “I should answer first since you did yesterday.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry shrugged. “Whatever you want. Doesn’t seem to matter too much, if we’re both answering them anyway, does it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded, and then tapped his fingers on the table. “I think I’m most grateful for my mother; not only because of what she’s done for me over the years, but because she’s finally found a bit of peace in her life. That she can finally live for herself, and not suffer through my father’s mess, or have to worry about me so much. And… my friends.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry raised his eyebrows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco rolled his eyes. “You know, most people think that Slytherins don’t make friends. They think we only have acquaintances, but that’s not true, you know? I’ve known Blaise and Pansy since we were three years old, and Greg and… and Vince were with me right through Hogwarts.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding slowly, Harry said, “I was never sure if you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Crabbe and Goyle, or if it was just… an arrangement? They’d protect you and they’d gain the influence of you being who you were just by association.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It started like that,” Draco admitted. “And they… they were very happy with the Carrows, I guess because they were finally in lessons that they could pass without help, and it changed. Our last year… I know you weren’t there to see it, Potter, but it was rough—even for the Slytherins.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t doubt you. I’ve heard what it was like for the Gryffindors, but I know what it’s like to try and live up to expectations, and I’m sure they were heavy on you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded. “It was nothing I didn’t deserve, I suppose but… it was hard.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry regarded him for a moment, before he nodded. “I’m most grateful for Ron and Hermione, obviously. They’ve been with me through everything, and it’s common knowledge that I wouldn’t be alive without them. Beyond that, I don’t think I’d have made it through anything without them. Ron was the only one who could bring me out of a funk, and Hermione… she’s just so caring. There were times when she was the only one I could talk to about things, and other times when I didn’t even have to say anything. She already knew.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A lot of people are jealous of your friendship. All the way through Hogwarts, actually, I’d hear people muttering about the three of you, how inseparable you were.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We weren't always,” Harry admitted. “Ron and Hermione didn’t get along at all when we first met, and then again in third year, there was a whole drama between them. I tried not to get involved, but I think that did more harm than good, honestly. Fourth year, Ron and I fell out over the tournament, and then in fifth year, I was a complete brat. Sixth year, Ron and Hermione were… pining for one another, let’s be honest, and it didn’t go well at all.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The two of them are together now?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded his head. “Yeah they are. They’re heading out to Australia soon, to find Hermione’s parents.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Australia?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh. Before we went on the run, Hermione made her parents forget about her and sent them off to Australia, away from the war and the chance that they’d be hurt in an attempt to either draw us out, or at least get information. Except now, Hermione isn’t quite sure what to do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If they’re happy out there, is it really fair to revert their memories? I think she should, and I told her as much because if it was me, I’d want to know about my kid, you know? But it’s her choice. Ron is going with her for moral support… and probably so that they can have sex, because Molly is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>about letting them share a room before they’re married.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco shook his head. “Potter, what even is your life?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry snorted. “I’ve been asking myself that for as long as I can remember.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry jumped when a pop sounded, but he found himself face to face with Kreacher before he could even think about drawing his wand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Minister sent Kreacher to you. He said to tell you that you can use me to send further correspondence if you need to, Master Harry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded. “Thanks, Kreacher. Think you can bring me a few things to do in the house? I’m bored out of my mind.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As you say, Master.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kreacher disappeared again, just as Draco entered the living room. “Were you talking to someone?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kreacher. Kingsley sent him instead of replying to my message, saying we can use him to send further correspondence if we need anything.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded and dropped down into the chair.  “You sent him off again?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sent him to get some things to do in the house. If I have to stay here for weeks, I need something to occupy me or you’ll kill me for being irritating.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s to say I won’t do that anyway?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry raised his eyebrows, his lips tilting into a smirk. “I’d like to see you try, Ferret.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any time you want, Scarhead.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They shared a look, and then both started laughing.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God we were such </span>
  <em>
    <span>children</span>
  </em>
  <span>, weren’t we?” Harry said, shaking his head. “When I think of some of the things we called each other, it boggles my head. What were we thinking?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was thinking that you’d refused my hand on the train,” Draco pointed out. “I guess it just… escalated.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You insulted the first friend I’d made, what the hell did you think I was going to do?” Harry asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco shrugged. “I wasn’t used to people telling me no; that you did… I wasn’t best pleased with it. Especially since my father told me that I was to try and </span>
  <em>
    <span>lure you to our side.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you even know what that meant when you were eleven?” Harry asked, honestly curious to the answer. He couldn’t help but wonder how much, and how early, Lucius had shared information with his son. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really. I guess I knew that my father wasn’t on the same side as Dumbledore, though I didn’t really know what the ‘sides’ meant back then. Just that we didn’t like Dumbledore, and you’d be better off on </span>
  <em>
    <span>our </span>
  </em>
  <span>side.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry wrinkled his nose. “Weird.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco shrugged. “I didn’t really know much until Easter break of fourth year. My father was a mess when I went home, you know? The Dark Mark was coming back and he wasn’t sure what that meant. I guess now I know it was because he’d denied him; and nobody got away with denying him. Well, until you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry snorted. “Beyond the first year, he didn’t really ask me for anything.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...the first year?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm. I met him, when he was on the back of Quirrell's head. It was a very surreal experience, to see our professor unrolling his turban to show a second face on the back of his head.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco gaped at him for a moment. “You mean that was true?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure. I don’t actually know what you heard, but you probably got the main gist of what happened at the very least.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We really need to map out our years at Hogwarts,” Draco said, shaking his head. “I want to know what was actually going on all the times when something happened and I had to listen to rumours.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry snorted. “We’d probably need more than a month to do that, but I guess at some point, I can outline the main points of what happened. Or you can just ask about specific things.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll tell me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unless I have a reason not to, sure. Most of it is public knowledge, short of a detail or ten.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco chuckled. “I’m going to hold you to that, Harry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry smiled. “I don’t doubt it.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> ~ Chapter  10 ~  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?  </em>
</p>
<p>“Everything,” Harry said flatly. </p>
<p>Draco blinked. “Eh?” </p>
<p>“The muggles I grew up with were… I want to say the worst, but they weren’t. They didn’t like magic, didn’t want anything to do with magic, or with me, and I was dumped on them—literally left on the doorstep—when my mum and dad died. They…” Harry shook his head. “They told me my parents died in a car crash, and then they put me in the cupboard under the stairs and dealt with me as little as possible until my Hogwarts letter came. That was a whole clusterfuck by itself, but Hagrid came and explained about Hogwarts to me, and then took me to Diagon Alley.” </p>
<p>“Merlin,” Draco muttered. “You didn’t know anything about magic or anything?” </p>
<p>“Not until I got my letter. Though I did have quite a lot of accidental magic, so I guess subconsciously I must have known something was different about me.” </p>
<p>“Oho, tell me more about the accidental magic,” Draco said, leaning forward eagerly. He couldn’t help but wonder about a little Boy-Who-Lived and what he’d done. </p>
<p>Harry chuckled. “I turned a teacher’s hair blue once because she was mean to me. I jumped over a bin running away from my cousin, and ended up on the roof. I set a snake free in the zoo.” </p>
<p>“You… set a snake free?” </p>
<p>“I was talking to him—” </p>
<p>“I thought you didn’t know you were a parseltongue?” </p>
<p>“I didn’t know there was a name for it! I thought it was a common thing, like people talking to trolls or goblins or mermaids. I didn’t realise it was a… thing.” </p>
<p>“How did you set one free though?” </p>
<p>“Well, I was talking to him, and Dudley—my cousin—knocked me to the floor, so I, uh, vanished the glass on his enclosure. I wonder if he ever made it to Brazil.” </p>
<p>Draco blinked. “You’re something else, Potter.” </p>
<p>Harry nodded sheepishly. “I’ve been told. Your turn.” </p>
<p>Sighing, Draco said, “I feel a bit petty now that you’ve said all that. I guess if I could change anything, I’d have wanted my father to see me more as his son, rather than his heir. I was always treated more as an extension of him; his name, his power, his reach, rather than the way I feel like someone would treat their child.”</p>
<p>“That’s not petty. I think that’s a normal thing to wish for, honestly.” </p>
<p>“I guess.” </p>
<p>“What about your accidental magic?” </p>
<p>Draco blushed. “Most of it was just summoning things I wanted that my nanny-elf wouldn’t get for me,” he admitted. “But when I was five, I made the fire poker chase my father around his study because he wouldn’t pay attention to me.”   </p>
<p>Harry laughed. “Amazing.” </p>
<p>Draco shook his head. “The punishment wasn’t amazing. He wasn’t best pleased, even if he knew it was accidental. I guess because accidental magic reacts to emotions, he knew I wanted it to do it, even if I hadn’t actually meant for it to happen.” </p>
<p>“I blew up my aunt once, if that helps? And that was after I started Hogwarts.” </p>
<p>Draco blinked. “You had accidental magic <em> after </em>you turned eleven?” </p>
<p>“Uh huh. She pushed me to a point that nobody has ever done before or since and I just… snapped. I’m pretty sure I wanted her dead to be honest, even if now I know that that’s ridiculous.” </p>
<p>“So… did she explode?” </p>
<p>“No, she kinda… swelled up like a balloon, but then like… kept on going? She ended up bobbing out of the kitchen and up into the sky. I have no idea how they found her or got her back, but they must have done it, or my Uncle Vernon really would have killed me.” </p>
<p>“Well then. I’ll make sure not to push you to that point. I can’t imagine I’d make a good balloon.” </p>
<p>Harry laughed. “Sure you would. You’ve always been full of hot air anyway.” </p>
<p>… </p>
<p>“What did he bring?” Draco asked, popping his head around the door to Harry’s room. He’d heard Kreacher’s arrival and disappearance, but Harry hadn’t come downstairs so he’d decided to investigate. </p>
<p>Harry smiled up at him and gestured him inside. </p>
<p>“He’s brought drawing books and puzzle books and stuff, and then a few jigsaws—they’re a Muggle thing that Hermione set me off with, I find them relaxing—quills, inks, board games. They should keep us occupied for at least a few days, and I can always call him back if you want anything.” </p>
<p>Draco picked up one of the ‘jigsaw’ boxes and turned it over in his hands. “These are Muggle toys?” </p>
<p>“Sort of,” Harry replied. “It’s a large picture, broken down into little pieces, and you put it together to make the picture. The best thing about them is that they’re time consuming.” </p>
<p>Draco snorted. “Yeah, that does sound like a good thing.” </p>
<p>“I’ll put everything in the living room on the table in a little while,” Harry said. “Help yourself to any of them. I’m just gonna get a quick shower first, and then I’ll make dinner.” </p>
<p>Draco nodded. “Sure. We can maybe do another question while you’re cooking?”  </p>
<p>“Fingers crossed it won’t be something depressing,” Harry said, smiling slightly. They’d had a good day, he didn’t want to ruin it. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 11  ~ </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… think I need more than four minutes,” Harry offered, when Draco read out the question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco snorted. “Probably. Maybe just the basics?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then you’ll ask me ten million questions after?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably,” Draco repeated with a grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. Who’s going first?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shrugged. “Whoever you want, I’ve forgotten who’s turn it is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You go on then,” Harry said, flipping the steaks over in the pan and basting them in butter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco twisted his lips for a moment. “I grew up in Malfoy Manor, raised mostly by a nanny elf called Immy. My father wasn’t really around much, and when he was, he didn’t approve much of me. My mother, when she had time, would read with me, and sing with me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I grew up well off, and didn’t want for anything in the way of material things. When I started Hogwarts, I made a home in Slytherin, and a rival in you. School was pretty normal for me up until fifth year, when my father was arrested for breaking into the Ministry under the orders of The Dark Lord. In the summer after my fifth year, I was forced into taking the Dark Mark, and told that my first task was to assassinate the Headmaster of Hogwarts.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco took a deep breath, avoiding looking at Harry as he continued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I almost killed Ron Weasley and Katie Bell in my attempt to follow orders—not because I wanted to, but because if I didn’t, he threatened to kill my mother—but in the end, I was too weak to finish the task. During my last year at Hogwarts, I tried to keep my head down, but having the Dark Lord as your house guest isn’t the easiest thing to live with. I almost died three times during the year, and twice more at the Battle of Hogwarts.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His time was most likely up, he knew, but he finished determinedly anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was almost sentenced to Azkaban for carrying the Dark Mark and attempted murder, but you… you saved me, and I… I still don’t know why.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finally met Harry’s eyes, there was a tornado of emotion in them, but Draco couldn’t pick any single sentiment out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saved you because you didn’t deserve to have your life taken from you, and that’s what Azkaban would have done,” Harry said softly, turning back to the cooker. “And because I believe in second chances. You were a kid; we all were. That’s why I spoke up for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded, staring down at the table as Harry silently dished up the food. When he put the plates down on the table, he smiled slightly. “I’ll answer after we’ve eaten, okay? I just… need a minute to put things in order.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded, slicing into his steak. It was perfectly pink, medium rare like he’d asked for, and he shook his head. “Have you never thought that maybe a chef would be a better future for you, Potter?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry arched his eyebrow. “I’m taking that as a compliment. And no, not really. I enjoy cooking, but I think if I had to do it as a job, it’d lose some of its enjoyability for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re going into the Auror Academy when we’re done here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure about that, either. I know it’s expected of me but… I think maybe I’m done fighting. Besides, Kingsley and I talked about it, and he’s concerned that if it was known that I was an Auror, people might try and lure me specifically into all manner of attacks, and that’d just put more people in danger.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you thinking of doing instead?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t sound too sad about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiled. “I’m not. It’s nice that, for the first time in years, I don’t know what’s coming. What about you? What would you do if you weren’t stuck here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shrugged. “This last year, I’ve thought of training to be a healer but… I don’t know how many people would trust me to look after them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversation paused as they enjoyed their food, and only when Harry pushed his plate away did they speak again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, four minutes,” Harry said, leaning on the table with his elbows. “I grew up with Muggles, not knowing about magic, thinking my parents died in a car crash and wondering why the Dursleys had even kept me when it was very clear they didn’t want me. Hagrid came to get me when my Aunt and Uncle tried to outrun my Hogwarts letters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In my first year, I thought Snape was trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone, helped send a baby dragon to Romania, found out that I was really good at being a seeker, loved Quidditch, found the best friends I’ll ever have in my life, realised that Snape wasn’t actually trying to steal the stone, and met Voldemort for the first time. I almost died.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry took a sip of water, and continued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In my second year at Hogwarts, I learned that talking to snakes wasn’t actually a thing that most people can do, realised why you shouldn’t use animal hair in Polyjuice potion, and killed a fifty foot Basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor when Tom Riddle—Voldemort—tried to kill me again. I was poisoned by the Basilisk, but Fawkes—Dumbledore’s Phoenix—saved my life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck, Potter?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In third year, I thought my father’s best friend, and subsequently my Godfather, was a murderer who wanted to kill me, but later found out that he was innocent the whole time and he’d been sent to Azkaban without a trial. Me and Hermione saved him using a time turner. Oh, and I learnt how to cast a corporeal patronus because Dementors.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco blinked at him. “Your patronus was corporeal even against actual Dementors?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh huh. Fourth year, the tournament. I out-flew a dragon, swam with mermaids and made my way through a maze, and then watched Voldemort return, fought him, watched Cedric die and then barely escaped Mad Eye Moody, who was actually Barty Crouch Jr using Polyjuice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fifth year… we don’t talk about fifth year. Sirius died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sixth year… you know what happened in sixth year. I was obsessed with finding out if you’d taken the mark and then… well, you know how the year ended. Snape killed Dumbledore at the top of the tower and—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were there, weren’t you? You saw it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. Seventh—well, I didn’t go to Hogwarts. But Ron, Hermione and I took an extended camping trip, broke into Gringotts and escaped on a dragon, led a battle at Hogwarts, I died and came back to life, and… I killed Voldemort. Finally.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You went over four minutes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you surprised?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No, I’m not, but… I have questions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you might,” Harry replied, grinning. “Shall we have ice cream in the living room and you can quiz me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded. “Go sit. I might not be able to make steak like you can, but I can spoon ice cream into a bowl.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t forget the chocolate sauce and sprinkles.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco rolled his eyes. “Go sit, you asshole.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 12 ~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If you could wake up tomorrow and have gained any one quality or ability, what would it be? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry pulled a blanket over his legs and accepted the bowl of ice cream Draco handed to him. He was surprised when the blond—instead of settling into the armchair—sat down beside him, tugging at the blanket until they were sharing it, each propped up on one arm of the relatively small sofa.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry gestured for Draco to go ahead with his questions, before he dug into the bowl with his spoon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Polyjuice… why do you know not to use it on animals?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hermione brewed it in second year but then the hair she used was that of a cat. It didn’t end well, she was stuck in the hospital wing for weeks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco blinked. “She brewed it. In second year?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you even need Polyjuice for?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry felt his cheeks heat up, and Draco arched an eyebrow as his face glowed red. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh. Ron and I changed into Crabbe and Goyle because we thought you were the heir of Slytherin.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You… wait. The one day when they were acting really weird during the holidays. That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh. Turned out you weren’t and Ron almost hit you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco snorted. “When I asked them later why they'd been so weird, they looked at me like I was losing my mind.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We, uh, gave them cupcakes with sleeping potion in them and locked them in a broom cupboard.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long pause, and then Draco started laughing. A moment later, Harry joined him; it really had been the most ridiculous thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay,” Draco said, when he finally stopped laughing. “Why’d you break into Gringotts?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We needed to find something, and we thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was in the bank. Turned into an absolute shit-show, the same way every plan we’ve ever made has, but at least we set the dragon free. I thought Charlie was going to kiss us all when we told him about it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Charlie?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ron’s brother. He works with dragons in Romania.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. He’s the one you sent the dragon to in first year?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry scooped up more ice cream as he nodded. Draco just shook his head.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your life could be a trashy novel, I hope you know that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Snorting, Harry shrugged. “Probably. The sad thing is that it could be the dullest thing imaginable, and people would buy it because it had my name on it. I had to have all sorts of injunctions put against Rita Skeeter after the war. She wanted to write a biography on me; like that trash she wrote about Dumbledore.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco wrinkled his nose. “She’s such a hack. When she used to come sniffing around for information about you, she’d take everything as gospel. Not the most attractive trait in a reporter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh. I shouldn’t have eaten all that ice cream,” he said, setting his empty bowl down on the table. “I’m about to go into a food coma.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One more question before you collapse?” Draco offered, putting his own bowl down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure. Let’s hope I don’t have to think so much about this one.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded, reading the question from the page, before he tilted his head to the side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I’d like to be a metamorphmagus,” he said, after a moment’s thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Teddy is a metamorphmagus,” Harry said, his lips tilting up. “He changes his hair to black every time I walk into the room.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco’s lips tilted up in a smile. “Teddy is your godson, right? Aunt Andromeda has been writing to my mother; she sent her a picture of her grandson.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s the light of my life,” Harry admitted. “It’s hell not being able to see him while I’m here. He’s a little star.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s cute,” Draco replied simply. “So, what ability would you have?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To disappear,” Harry replied quietly. “I have my cloak, which is helpful, but also not really the kind of thing I can use in a crowded place. I’d like to be able to make myself completely disappear to get from A-B when I’m in a public place.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh. That… would be exceptionally useful,” Draco admitted. “Almost Slytherin-esque thinking, actually. Who’d have thought it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin,” Harry said, his lips turning up in a smirk at the utter shock on Draco’s face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No it didn’t! Potter, you lie!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Swear to Merlin,” Harry said. “I asked it to put me anywhere but Slytherin because Hagrid told me that all the dark wizards and witches were in Slytherin. I learned later that it wasn’t quite so simple but by then, I was already in Gryffindor anyway.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry Potter, a Slytherin.” Draco looked thoughtful for a moment, before he shook his head. “Nope. Pass, too weird.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laughing, Harry stretched out on the sofa. “We could have been housemates, Draco,” he teased, grin widening when Draco shook his head again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope. I’m going for a shower—and to wash that from my head. So weird, don’t like it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry watched him go and then shook his head to himself. How odd. Draco was actually alright when it was just the two of them, away from Hogwarts and the war. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who’d have imagined such a thing? </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter  13 ~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, your future or anything else, what would you want to know? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Merlin, no, nothing,” Harry said, shaking his head. They were sitting on the steps at the back door. It was a nice night, but Harry couldn’t be bothered conjuring seats when there was no sun to bathe in. “I’m good. I’ve had enough fortune telling mumbo- jumbo controlling my life.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco frowned. “What do you mean?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Voldemort came after me and my parents because of a prophecy that was made before I was even born,” Harry said softly, his voice travelling in the darkness. “So I’m good with never dealing with any form of crystal balls, or divination, ever again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… didn't know that,” Draco admitted. “That’s gotta suck.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It really does. So… would you want to know anything?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco tilted his head slightly. “I’d like to know if there’s happiness in my future,” he said eventually. “Not what, or how, or even when. I’d just… like to know that it’s worth it—to carry on, you know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the only one who can make that a reality,” Harry said quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco swallowed hard and nodded. “You’re right. I just… I guess I don’t know what happiness looks like anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll have fun finding out,” Harry pointed out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chuckling, Draco nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… I assume, since you’re named after something up there, that you know about the constellations and such?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco frowned. “Of course I do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me a story.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A story—Potter, the stars don’t tell stories.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Draco. Tell me a story about one of the stars.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Draco cut himself off and then nodded. “Yeah, okay. Do you know the story behind Orion’s Belt?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry shook his head. “No. Tell me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry woke up to the sun streaming through his window and the realisation that he’d slept the whole night through without interruption. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A first, for sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled when he remembered the night before. Draco had spent almost two hours telling him the origin stories of the stars, and even if he’d made some of them up, like Harry suspected he had, it had been a nice evening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stretching, Harry took a moment to enjoy the luxury of a full night's sleep before he climbed out of bed. Showering quickly, Harry dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and padded downstairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t the first up, which made a change, and the sight he faced when he stepped into the kitchen was one that he thought could power a Patronus. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco stood in front of the cooker, with one hand on the frying pan. Not hugely shocking, except he was covered in what looked like pancake mix and there were various fruits scattered all over the counters and the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry tried not to laugh, he really did, but if he’d have bit his bottom lip any harder he’d have bitten right through. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A snigger broke free first, though it was followed quickly by a wave of hilarity as Draco flushed bright red. When Draco joined in the laughing, Harry only got worse, and it didn’t take long until he was shaking his hand, turning away so he didn’t have to look as Draco spelled himself—and the walls, floor and cooker—clean. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t breathe,” Harry complained, still chuckling as he pressed a hand to his ribs. “What on earth were you trying to do?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… You’ve done practically all the cooking since you got here. I wanted to make breakfast.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aww.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry wanted to bite the word back as soon as it left him, but thankfully, Draco just rolled his eyes.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want me to teach you to make pancakes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or you could just make them since you’re up?” Draco suggested hopefully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, yes. But I’ll teach you to make them while I make them. Square deal?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco smiled. “Deal.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 14  ~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? What haven’t you done? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Travelling,” Harry said, through a mouthful of pancakes. “I’ve always wanted to see the world. One day, I’ll do it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco wrinkled his nose. “Manners, Potter. I don’t need to see pancake mush floating around your tonsils.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry rolled his eyes but nodded, apologising when he’d finished eating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where would you want to go?” Draco asked curiously. “If you could go anywhere in the world.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d love to travel through Asia,” Harry replied wistfully. “But really, I’d love to travel all over the world. Maybe not all at once, obviously, but there are so many places I’d love to see.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you been anywhere already?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really. I haven’t ever left the UK, though I’ve been around quite a lot of it while we were camping. Not that I had the chance to explore properly, being in hiding and all. What about you? What do you dream of doing that you haven’t already done?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Travelling,” Draco admitted, sharing a smile with Harry. “I visited France quite often in my youth, but I’d like to go further afield, and perhaps explore the places that would never have interested my parents.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded. “Where would you go first?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d quite like to visit New Zealand,” Draco said. “The wizarding community there is so interesting, and I’d love to go to their national parks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never really think about other wizarding communities,” Harry admitted. “Are they really so different?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some are. I have some books if you want to read them, about the various communities around the world. Brazil is another place I’d like to go to for the wizarding community. They have such different ideas on how to look after their creatures, it would be fascinating to see it in action.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry smiled and then quietly finished his breakfast, clearing the table when they were both done eating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t so hot out, and he didn’t think he had the focus for a book, so he jogged up the stairs to grab a jigsaw. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco eyed him curiously when he set it out, and Harry waved him over, showing him the small pieces and the way they slotted together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco was immediately fascinated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three hours later found them sitting at the table, elbows pressed together as they worked on putting the jigsaw together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is strangely soothing,” Draco admitted, sitting back in his seat to give his eyes a break. “But also quite frustrating. It’s an odd paradox of an activity, Potter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry snorted. “I like them, but sometimes, I have to step away for fear that I’ll throw one through the window when I can’t find a piece I need.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded thoughtfully and looked back at the puzzle. “I can see that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry flopped onto the sofa. They’d had lunch and cleaned up, but the weather still hadn’t brightened up, and he was going a little stir crazy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so bored,” he complained, running a hand through his hair. “This is awful.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco joined him on the sofa, nudging Harry’s legs to the floor so he had room to sit down. “You’re really not good at being still, are you, Potter?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m really not. Like… </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>not.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could go flying?” Draco offered, a gleam in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry blinked. “Do we have flying room?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Disillusionment charms, Potter. Honestly, do you completely forget that you’re a wizard when you’re not battling some mad creature or dark wizard?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Little bit,” Harry said, nodding. “But disillusionment charms… I’m down, let’s go flying.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll have to have your elf collect our brooms, Harry,” Draco said, shaking his head almost fondly. “Idiot.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry laughed sheepishly. “Right. I knew that.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter  15 ~ </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The breeze in his hair felt fantastic after being cooped up inside for so long, and Draco never wanted this moment to end. He’d definitely be adding aimless flying to the list of things that still made him happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter flew close by, occasionally scanning the ground beneath them. He seemed to be enjoying himself, though there was a tensity about him that Draco hadn’t seen much of when they were back at the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if it was the safety of the wards that had let Potter relax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still holding onto his broom with one hand, Draco fished his question list from his pocket, and grinned at the next question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Potter?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Harry looked around, checking the air for any sign of a problem. “What’s up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco waved the paper and asked the question, grinning widely. Harry laughed, clearly as amused as Draco was himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, or, perhaps not so surprising given the revelations the questions had brought forth so far, Potter didn’t go with the obvious answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think my biggest accomplishment is making friends,” he said instead, after a moment of thought. “Growing up, I didn’t have anyone, and knowing that I chose so well… it’s definitely up there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco could see that, oddly enough. Potter likely wouldn’t have made it through half of his adventures if it hadn’t been for his friends, after all, so he supposed it made sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s yours?” Harry asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning, Draco shook his head. “I’m not sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I might suggest one?” Harry hedged, and Draco nodded, nonplussed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were strong enough to protect your mother to the best of your ability. She’s alive and living her best life in France… that’s something to be proud of, Draco.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at what I had to do to make that happen though,” Draco pointed out. “Attempted murder, regardless of my motivation, isn’t the best accomplishment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not, but I don’t think the one has to interfere with the other. You can be proud of keeping your mum safe while being sorry for the actions you were forced to take.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wasn’t sure what to say to that. He shook his head. “You’re such an optimist, Potter, it’s a little sickening.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better than being always sad, though, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shrugged. He couldn’t deny that Potter had a point. He’d always been somewhat pessimistic, but it amazed him that despite what Potter had been through, he could still find the good in life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth to ask if Potter wanted to go further out or start heading back, when a flash of light flew past him, missing him by inches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Potter curse, and followed his gaze to the floor, where three cloaked figures were standing, their silver masks shining. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck it all. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 16 ~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What do you most value in friendship? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin,” Potter shouted, swerving. “Draco, head back for the house, I’ll meet you there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not just going to—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Draco, go!” Potter shouted, before shooting three spells down. One of them met its target, one of the figures crumpling to the floor. “They’re more than likely after you. Call Kreacher and have him alert Kingsley to my position, and then stay in the bloody house.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco thought about arguing, but he knew that they needed Auror assistance, so he flipped his broom around and shot through the sky towards the safe house. Pushing his broom as hard as it could go, Draco could only hope that he’d be fast enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought of something happening to Potter was more awful than he cared to think about—and he was going to have to save that thought to analyse when he wasn’t sick with fear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry dodged and swerved in the air, returning fire when he could as he waited for backup to arrive. He didn’t think they were real Death Eaters, the spells weren’t powerful enough and the aim was bloody awful, but adrenaline was rushing through him regardless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought he’d left this behind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally—it could have been five or fifty minutes, he didn’t have any idea—Kingsley arrived on the scene with four Aurors. Harry landed on the grass when the three attackers were in magic-suppressing cuffs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you to stay in the safe house,” Kingsley said, raising his eyebrows as the Aurors Apparated away with their criminals. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>bored,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harry complained. “I hate being cooped up, Kingsley, and it’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>days.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can widen the wards a little,” Kingsley offered. “Enough that you and Draco can at least play a seeker game.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded gratefully. “That’ll be brilliant. Did you see him?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kingsley shook his head. “I didn’t, but Kreacher seemed to think he was in a bit of a state, worried about you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Who’d have thought of it? Draco Malfoy, worried about lil old me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you two would get along, given the opportunity,” Kingsley said, eyes twinkling in a way that reminded Harry decidedly of Dumbledore. “Everything is fine at the house?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Let me know what those jokers were playing at, eh? I want to know who they are and who they were after.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kingsley nodded. “Will do. I’ll send a letter over with Kreacher later today, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apparate back,” Kingsley said, cuffing the back of Harry’s head. “Put Draco’s mind to rest that you’re fine. And stay within the wards, okay? I’ll have them fixed up by tomorrow morning.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded, and clutching his broom, turned on the spot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin, Potter,” Draco said, shaking his head when Harry appeared in the doorway, windswept but otherwise seemingly fine. “Are you okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded. “I’m good. Kingsley and the Aurors turned up before they even landed a spell, I promise.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding slowly, Draco relaxed into his seat. “That was too much adventure for me. I don’t know how you do it and seem so relaxed about it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exposure?” Harry suggested. “I’m relatively sure they weren’t actual Death Eaters, but Kingsley said he’ll write later on today and let us know who they were, and what they were playing at.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco pursed his lips. “I’m not sure I even want to know, honestly.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Snorting, Harry sat down. “It’s up to you if you read the letter or not. I figure information is something I’ll always want to have, even if it’s not something I particularly want to know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really need to stop being so Slytherin,” Draco complained, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s creeping me out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laughing, Harry waved his hand. “What’s the next question?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re actually asking for one?” Draco said, eyebrows raising. “I thought you were just indulging me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry huffed. “Just read the damn question, you asshole.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco did, and then said, “I value loyalty the most, I think. There’s no point having friends if they’re just going to turn around and stab you in the back at the first opportunity, is there?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right,” Harry agreed. “Loyalty is important. I think, for me, honesty is the biggest thing. I’ve had too many people try and hide things from me, that now, I just… can’t do secrets. If it’s something I should know, that I expect to be told, you know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully. “You’re right. I never really thought about that, but… yeah. Honesty.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s stomach growled, breaking the silence and making them both laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you’re hungry after all that,” Draco said, shaking his head. “Did it shake you even a little bit?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it did,” Harry said, shrugging. “But I’m a growing boy and I need my food. Besides, adrenaline always makes me hungry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t grown since you were fifteen,” Draco scoffed. “You’re tiny.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry mocked hurt, pressing a hand to his chest. “How dare! You can make your own dinner for that! I’m shocked and appalled that you’d say such a thing!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laughing, Draco shook his head. “You’re such a dork, Potter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’ve got a really bad memory. I told you to call me Harry, didn’t I?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you did. Sorry, I’ll try harder.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded and then winced when his stomach growled again. “I can’t be bothered cooking,” he admitted. “Do you mind if I have Kreacher make us food? He’s a good cook, I swear.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco shrugged. “Whatever is fine, I’m not really that hungry. Still feel a little sick.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sympathetic look on his face, Harry nodded and called for Kreacher to make a simple dinner of soup and sandwiches. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled when Draco emptied the bowl of French Onion soup. Kreacher really was good at that. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 17  ~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What is your most treasured memory?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The middle of the night found Harry sitting in the living room, a cup of tea in one hand as he flipped through a book propped up on his thigh. He wasn’t surprised that he’d woken sweating and panting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the attack being little more than kids with a grudge, it was still an attack, and it had caused an uncomfortable reel of flashbacks to haunt his dreams. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kingsley’s letter had been brief and to the point. Harry had been seen—his disillusionment charms had never been the strongest, and they’d had the misfortune to travel over a patch of wizard-owned land that had been mapped in a similar way to the Marauder’s map. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d thought to scare him, aiming for fear not death, though Kingsley was pushing for attempted murder regardless. If Harry had fallen from his broom, or been hit with a spell in the air, he could have easily died. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco had been surprised that the attack hadn’t been aimed specifically at him, and he’d been even more surprised when Harry wasn’t particularly angry about it. As far as Harry was concerned, it was people being stupid, and they’d undoubtedly learn their lesson when the Aurors and the Wizengamot was done with them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was almost to the end of his book when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He wasn’t surprised that Draco was up either; it had seemed to scare him more than it had Harry. Then again, given that Draco had lived among those that wore those masks, it wasn’t hard to understand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco shuffled into the living room and looked utterly unsurprised to see Harry already there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want more tea?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry glanced at his cup to see how much was left—not a lot—then drained it and handed it over to Draco. “Thanks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh. Next question is about your most treasured memory. Indulge me, Potter, I need some happiness.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry snorted, but nodded as Draco wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His most treasured memory… he wasn’t sure he could just pick one. Two were coming to the forefront of his mind, and he considered which was the happiest. He twisted his lips thoughtfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Draco returned with two steaming mugs, he wasn’t any closer to a decision. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco curled up in the armchair, both hands wrapped around his mug. “Treasured memory, go.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry chuckled. “I can’t decide between two, so either you go first, or I’ll have to tell you both of them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me both,” Draco requested softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The first is when Hagrid came and liberated me from the Dursleys. We were in this mad little hut, on a rock in the middle of the sea—my uncle decided to try and outrun the letters, it was a disaster—and Hagrid got mad because my uncle made a derisive comment about Dumbledore. Hagrid gave my cousin a pig tail, and then took me out of there to Diagon Alley. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For about a week, I wondered if it had all been some crazy fever dream.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco chuckled. “Hagrid gave your cousin a pig tail? Why?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dudley was always overweight, and if there was food around, he’d eat it. Hagrid brought some sausages with him, and Dudley ate them. Hagrid told me later that he’d actually meant to turn Dudley into a pig, which… it’s probably for the best that he didn’t.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco shook his head. “And your second memory?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Finding out that Sirius was innocent,” Harry said with a small smile. “That I had family, real family, that cared about me… that was amazing to me. For a little while, we’d thought that maybe I could go and live with him, but… it all turned into a shit-show, and Sirius had to stay on the run. It still… it was still a lot, to know that there was an adult out there that cared for me, you know? Someone who’d be in my corner regardless of the circumstances.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry you didn’t get to experience having a home with an adult who loved you,” Draco offered after a moment. “I’m sorry for your loss, Potter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry swallowed thickly. “Thanks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco’s lips tilted up slightly. “My memory is the Christmas before I went to Hogwarts for the first time. My mother was so happy that year, but also she pulled out all the stops because she figured it was the last Christmas of me being a child. I think maybe she was worried that I’d want to start staying at Hogwarts for the holidays or something, I’m not sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, that year, she helped me decorate the tree instead of using magic to get it perfect, and she baked cookies with me, and I remember her singing Christmas carols while we did it. It was the best month of my life. Even my father wasn’t quite so cold, that year.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry smiled. “That sounds amazing. I’d never had a real Christmas before Hogwarts. I was in awe of the decorations, and I don’t think any child has been as shocked as I was to realise that I had presents on Christmas day.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the saddest… but quite possibly the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard, Potter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry felt his cheeks heat, and he took a sip of the still-hot tea to hide it. “What’s the next question?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco shook his head. “Not one I want to answer when I’m still coming off a nightmare. We can pick up later.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded, leaning his head back. “Whatever you want.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 18 ~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What is your most terrible memory? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until night had fallen that they came back to the questions. Harry was tired, but not tired enough to sleep, and they’d curled up on the sofa together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry bemoaned the lack of a TV, and then spent an hour explaining what exactly it was that he was missing to a fascinated Draco. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When this is all over, I’m totally taking you to the cinema,” Harry told him, forcing himself not to think that it sounded like a date. It wouldn’t be a date, right? Just… two friends meeting up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco had readily agreed with a small smile on his face at the thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what’s the next question,” Harry asked, leaning his head sideways on the back cushion of the sofa, so he was facing Draco. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco’s face fell. “Can we just not?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s up to you,” Harry replied gently. “But we have to push through that one if you want to finish the list, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pursing his lips, Draco nodded. “What’s your most terrible memory, Harry?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry winced. “Ah.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Smiling tightly, Draco shifted slightly. At first, Harry wondered if he was uncomfortable with their proximity on the sofa, but Draco had shifted closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna go first?” Draco asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… yeah. I can do that,” Harry said, nodding. It wasn’t like he had to think about it, despite the horror in his past. “I always thought that my most terrible memory would be watching Sirius fall through the veil, but it’s not. The worst was standing in the basement of Malfoy Manor, listening to Hermione scream for help.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco looked paler than Harry had ever seen him, and he seemed to be shaking slightly beneath the blanket. Harry reached out and squeezed his hand; Draco squeezed back and didn’t let go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The one thing I’ve been scared of since… since first year really, was putting Ron or Hermione in a situation they could be hurt in, and hearing her screaming, in so much pain…” Harry shuddered. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever heard.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded. “Turns out we have this in common. That’s my most terrible memory too. I just… that was the first time the war felt really real for me. And I know that sounds stupid, because of everything I did in sixth year but… Granger always seemed so untouchable. She was smarter than me, she was popular, and she was friends with you, and to watch Bellatrix </span>
  <em>
    <span>torture </span>
  </em>
  <span>her like that—” Draco shook his head. “I felt sick for days.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry hadn’t been expecting that, but he was oddly glad that he knew now. Knew that Draco truly regretted what had happened, what he’d done and what he’d seen. Harry had thought that he did, but this seemed more… conclusive, he supposed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s fine, you know? Did a little therapy immediately after the war, but she’s had the scar removed and she’s doing okay. Doesn’t even really have nightmares about that anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded slowly. “I… thanks. For telling me that. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the sounds she made, but I’m glad… I’m glad she’s okay. I really am.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry smiled slightly and squeezed Draco’s hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat in silence for a little while, until it was getting hard for Harry to keep his eyes open. He thought about going to bed, but knew he wouldn’t sleep well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he shifted slightly on the sofa and closed his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t let go of Draco’s hand. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 19 ~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They took a few days off the questions, and honestly, it was great. Getting to know Draco a little more organically was much more fun; especially when he did it by chasing him around their little ward enclosure on their brooms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another nice day found them back outside, and Draco slipped the list of questions from his pocket. “Shall we?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, sure.” Harry waved his hand for Draco to read the question, and then frowned when he did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry wrinkled his nose. “An odd question that, isn’t it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How so?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I mean, surely anyone with like… a large family would struggle choosing just one? I mean, I don’t have any blood family that I’m close to, but even then I can’t choose between Teddy or Ron or Hermione.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco shifted on the blanket, reaching up to rearrange the umbrella so it covered him more completely. “I guess it could be hard for someone in a close family. For me, I’m sure you already know the answer.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your mother.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded. “Of course. She’s the person in the world I love the most. I’d be… I don’t know if disturbing is the word. Devastated, certainly.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s an odd word choice,” Harry agreed. “But—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You two look like you’re having fun.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry sat up, his wand trained on their uninvited guest before Draco even had the time to look up and see who it was, and he was a little surprised by the fast reaction. He supposed that during his time in the safe house, Draco had relaxed a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure what it said that Potter was still so quick on the draw. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, lowering his wand as he eyed Kingsley. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I came to liberate you,” Kingsley said, conjuring a comfortable looking lawn chair beside Harry’s blanket, sitting down in it and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “We caught the guy sending the threats; the boys we arrested for attacking you were his sons. His youngest son was killed by Death Eaters.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded as though that explained everything but Draco frowned. “What does that have to do with Harry?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Kingsley thought the use of Harry’s first name was weird, he didn’t react to it. He glanced at Harry, who answered for both of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some people think that I should have ended the war sooner. They blame me for their losses as much as they do the people that actually committed the murders.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco’s frown deepened. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry snorted. “It’s… it is what it is. As sad as it is to say, I’m used to it. You’re not the only one that’s been spat on in the street, Draco. People want someone to blame and I’m an easy target, I suppose.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Kingsley added, “anyone with a brain knows that none of it was Harry’s fault, but grief can do strange things to people’s thought processes, unfortunately. Anyway, he’s been caught, and he’s being given the help he so desperately needs, so… you can go home, Harry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded slowly, glancing at Draco. “That’s good. What about Draco?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kingsley sighed. “I can’t make you stay,” he said to Draco. “But I don’t think it’s safe for you to leave yet. It’s your choice, it’s always been your choice, you know that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco sighed, flopping back down on his blanket. “I’ll stay for a while longer if you think it’s best.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kingsley nodded and looked at Harry expectantly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have Kreacher take me home later today,” Harry told him. “And I’ll drop by your office tomorrow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. Have a good rest of your afternoon, gentlemen.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They exchanged goodbyes, and Kingsley left, leaving behind his lawn chair and an air of tension between Harry and Draco that hadn’t really been there for weeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco interrupted him. “We’ve only got one more question left. Shall we do it before you pack up?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Settling back on his blanket, Harry nodded. “Hit me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco read the last question and groaned. Merlin. “Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing like an easy question to finish, is there?” Harry said wryly, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco chuckled quietly. “I can help you pack while you think about it, if you’d like?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry shook his head. “I can have Kreacher do it, it’s fine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded, then took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll go first then. How, uh…. How do I go about making up for the mistakes I’ve made? How do I move on from them?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry sat up, brushing his hand through his hair again. “I think that you could, and probably should, apologise to the people you personally hurt. You could do that by letter or face to face, but you should at least try, you know? And… I think you should train to be a healer.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco raised his eyebrows. “Really?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What better way to make up for your mistakes than helping people? Healers help everyone, right? Or they try to, at least. And, well, it’s what you want to do, and that’ll make you even more effective at it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was quiet for a moment, and then a small smile tilted Draco’s lips. “Thanks, Harry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh. Okay… my turn, I guess. How do I break the mold set out for me by the Wizarding World? I’m going to leave here, and the public are going to expect me to walk straight into the Auror Academy like they’ve been expecting since the Battle of Hogwarts. I don’t want that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you need to decide to just say ‘fuck ‘em’,” Draco replied, shrugging. “You’ve got to live your life for yourself, Harry, not for other people. If they don’t like it, tell them to go and sign up for the Aurors and put their </span>
  <em>
    <span>own </span>
  </em>
  <span>lives at risk. I think they’ll probably hush right up if you tell them that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry snorted but nodded. “I think you’re probably right. Thanks, Draco.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stretched out on the blanket for a moment and then pushed himself up to his feet. Silently, they vanished their outdoor furniture and Draco followed him inside. Harry wandered around the house, picking up things that he’d left draped here or on a table there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite Kreacher being able to do it in mere minutes, he was prolonging the moment. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t know why he was procrastinating on leaving, but that would be a lie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew exactly why. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to leave Draco. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no attachment to the house; in fact, Harry was looking forward to his own flat, and his own bed, and seeing his friends, but…. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, he really didn’t want to leave Draco. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he couldn’t procrastinate anymore, Harry called Kreacher to transport his things back to his flat before he walked down to the kitchen, where Draco was sitting at the table, scribbling over a piece of parchment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” he asked, as he set the kettle to boil. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Writing a letter to the editor of Witch Weekly,” Draco said, looking up to meet Harry’s eyes. “I told you I’d be writing to them when we finished the questions, didn’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry glanced at the kettle and sighed, flicking it off. “Well, I’m heading out. I… I guess I’ll see you around, Malfoy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry didn’t wait for an answer. He knew he shouldn’t be hurt, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Really hurt, because sure, maybe Draco hadn’t fallen in love and maybe he thought it was stupid but… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d become friends over those questions, hadn’t they? They’d shared things with each other that they’d never said to anyone else and now Draco was just… disregarding all of that so that he could send a damning letter that would probably get added to a pile of hate mail and set on fire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had Harry been so stupid as to think that Draco had taken the whole thing seriously? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Potter?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you need anything, call for Kreacher,” Harry said, offering a tight smile. “I’ll make sure he knows to come to your call.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Uh. Thanks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded, shuffling his foot against the floor. “Right. Well, bye, Malfoy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco seemed taken aback by the quick change, but he nodded anyway. “Bye, Potter.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Chapter 20 ~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco watched Potter walk out of the kitchen with a sinking feeling in his stomach. After everything, he was just going to walk away? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he hadn’t been as invested in the time they’d spent in the house as Draco had been—as Draco had thought Harry had been. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A niggling feeling in the back of his mind annoyed him, but he pushed it away, his focus landing instead on the hurt he felt at Potter just… leaving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t like Draco had expected him to stay indefinitely, but… he’d thought that they could arrange a visit, or make plans for when Draco was finally safe to leave and return to the real world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was going to happen when that finally happened? If he saw Potter in the street, would he even be able to say hello to him without feeling awkward? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco glared down at the parchment he’d been furiously writing on and sighed. Maybe he should have at least forced Potter to read the letter he’d written to the editor of Witch Weekly.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If nothing else, it would have opened up a dialogue, the possibility of them being at least friends when they were both back to their usual lives. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Opportunity suddenly lost, Draco tossed his quill on the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t escape him that since Potter wouldn’t be reading the letter, he no longer had any interest in writing it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry made it as far as the edge of the wards and stopped. Could he really just leave things like that? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even if Draco was writing a scathing letter to the editor, he thought that maybe Draco </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>taken the questions seriously. Maybe even more so than Harry had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, they hadn’t worked for Draco in the way they were supposedly meant to, but that didn’t mean they weren’t friends now, right? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning back to the house, Harry pushed the door open and walked back through to the kitchen, frowning when he found that Draco wasn’t there. Surely he hadn’t finished his letter already? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The parchment was still laid out on the table, and Harry picked it up, curious despite himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Witch Weekly, </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I recently came across your article, 20 questions to fall in love, and was deeply skeptical that it could possibly work. I’ve been in rather unique circumstances for the last few weeks, and so, I had the opportunity to test it out with… someone that I never would have dreamed I could even be friends with. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As we answered the questions, the days passed, and I found myself proven wrong. A man I thought was the opposite of everything I liked in a person showed me that I can be wrong about a lot of things. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And I fell in love. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m writing to thank you, and also to warn you against posting such things. The end of our time together has come, and he’s going to wander off into the sunset, into an undoubtedly blessed life, and I’m left alone to pick up the shattered pieces of a broken heart. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Such an article can’t possibly work for everyone; there will be many who it works for, only to be left in the dust. That seems rather callous to me, one who has been burned in such a way. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry read through the letter twice, trying to understand the words he was seeing on the page and wondering how they’d both got it so wrong. The letter didn’t seem to be finished, but Harry could only imagine what would come next. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Forget something?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry turned to see Draco looking at him from the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes guarded as he saw that Harry was reading his letter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry dropped the parchment to the table and crossed the kitchen in three steps, his hand settling on Draco’s hip as he tugged him closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their lips met and it was like fireworks were exploding behind Harry’s eyes. Draco opened his mouth in shock and Harry took advantage of it, deepening the kiss as he pulled Draco even closer, his hand reaching up to play with the hair at the back of Draco’s neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The movement seemed to spur the blond into action, and he practically wrapped himself around Harry, pushing his whole self into the kiss, giving as good as he got and more as he melted into Harry’s embrace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they parted, panting and grinning like idiots, Harry shook his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought it was just me,” he admitted. “I thought… I thought you just wanted to be friends… or maybe not even that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco snorted. “I thought the same thing. We’re always idiots about each other, apparently.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded. “I… yeah. I guess we are.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you still leaving?” Draco asked, biting his bottom lip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry twisted his lips. “I’ll have to leave for a little while. I have to see Kingsley tomorrow, and I want to drop in on Andromeda and see Teddy, but… I’ll come back as soon as I’m done.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’ll stay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry smiled. “I’ll stay.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>~ Epilogue ~ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Draco, we’re going to be late!” Harry called through the house, rolling his eyes when Draco called back that he’d be five minutes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d said that twenty minutes ago. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry checked the cupcakes he’d packaged up and then climbed the stairs, two at a time, to find his wayward boyfriend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you faffing about for?” He asked, walking into their bedroom. Draco was standing in the mirror holding two shirts up against himself, biting his bottom lip worriedly. “Draco, what’s wrong?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know which one to wear,” Draco complained, holding the two shirts up. “I want to make a good impression.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Draco… I hate to tell you this, but Molly and Arthur aren’t going to care about the shade of blue your shirt is. Arthur will want to know about your healer training, and Molly will want to feed you, because despite you eating my cooking every night and being my tester for the bakery, you’re still skinny as a bloody rake.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You're just jealous that you have to work out,” Draco teased, holding the shirts up again. “Which one do you prefer?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a green t-shirt and a pair of jeans. “Wear these. Nobody else is going to be wearing black trousers and a shirt, and you said you wanted to fit in. You look gorgeous no matter what you wear, you dolt.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco leaned up for a kiss, which Harry pressed to his lips. “Thank you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh. And remember, Draco. It doesn’t matter what they think in the end; you make me happy, and that’s the important thing, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded. “I’ll be down in a couple of minutes, promise.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry smiled at him and left the bedroom, making his way back downstairs. The house—the one they’d stayed in while in hiding—had been completely redecorated since Harry had convinced Kingsley to sell it to him, but Harry wasn’t used to it yet, and he fell over the coat rack at the bottom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The same way he did every morning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cursing softly, he rolled his eyes when he heard Draco laughing from upstairs. He was sure Draco had put it there on purpose, just so Harry would keep falling over the stupid thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat down at the kitchen table—one of the few things they’d kept—and tapped his fingers against the hardwood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So much had changed since the first time he’d sat there, it was a little mind boggling when he remembered it had only been a few months. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco had gone into Healer training as soon as Kingsley had given him the go ahead to leave the house, and after a lot of deliberation, Harry had decided to open a bakery. He was still in the planning stages—which meant lots of cakes and cookies for Draco—but while he’d thought cooking could become a chore, he’d found he absolutely loved baking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a little freer, a little more creative, and he’d been having so much fun coming up with new recipes and flavours. It was certainly less stressful than chasing dark wizards, and honestly, if nothing else, Harry was glad that he’d accepted that he really didn’t want to be an Auror. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco stepped into the kitchen in the clothing Harry had suggested, and Harry smirked at him, eyes moving up and down his slight body unashamedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look hot; I think we should stay here instead,” he said, standing up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Draco reached out to bop him on the nose. “I know how much you’ve been looking forward to seeing Weasley and Granger.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry sighed but nodded, because Draco was right. Ron and Hermione were finally back from Australia, and he couldn’t wait to see them.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeahhhh, I know. Come on, then. I’ll save you for dessert, hmm?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco snorted. “You’re an idiot, Potter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Back atcha, hun.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry pressed a kiss to Draco’s cheek. “I love you too.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
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